Story time part 5 - Shael Han
Update #17 · Aug 23, 2013 · 5 comments
While we wait for Leif to do a final check on the current preview rules, here's the final chapter of our stories, this time focusing on the Shael Han.
Game Changer
The Winterhawk worried at his tea. Not obviously, not quite visibly, but anyone that knew his habits would have known. He examined the paintwork on the ceramic cup, almost added too much honey, and finished a full pot by himself inside half an hour.
Everything depended on how seriously Gregorio had taken his request. If the old vampire had a hand in Hadross’s game, he’d send assassins. If he decided the debt was too long passed for collection, he’d ignore the request. Worst case, however, would be if Gregorio sent a catspaw. The Winterhawk wouldn’t put it past him to pay his debt with fool’s gold, giving it the proper appearance, but lacking substance.
He checked the time by the sun, high above the street in a crystal clear sky. Almost time. Motioning to the server for another pot, he kept one eye on the busy market street from his table at the outdoor café. It wasn’t a matter of looking for something specific, but seeing the whole.
And there. Something stood out, only slightly. A stooped old woman with her cane. White hood, shapeless robe, gray hair straggling about her wrinkled face. Another moment of observation confirmed it. He kept his eyes off her, and watched from the periphery as he poured his tea. If she was an assassin, she relied wholly on her disguise to mask her approach. He centered himself, and moved his walking stick, his only weapon, to his right side.
She stopped by the Winterhawk’s table and said, “You are very public, for a spymaster.”
Exactly on time, he thought. And not someone I know. Excellent. He smiled and set down his tea. “And you are very young, for a crone. Please, do sit. How do you take your tea?”
Her eyes took in the crowded café patio, and she settled herself in the chair. Fructus citizens talked and laughed in the bright afternoon sun. “A strange time for a meeting of this sort.”
Winterhawk stroked his snowy beard. “Midnight in a shadowy courtyard is more traditional. But then, it would be past my bedtime. I’m an old man, after all.”
More tea arrived in a painted jar. The Winterhawk brewed and poured, deft motions, well-practiced. He got the honey right this time. “I am Ylae Tei, and I have the honor of being the Winterhawk. Is there something I should call you, or would you prefer to remain anonymous?”
“Anonymous is fine.” She sipped her cup delicately.
He grinned. “You do not fear poison?”
She shrugged. “Killing me here would gain you nothing but a very public corpse to dispose of. But, if my disguise was so easily penetrated, perhaps we should postpone this meeting.”
His eyes crinkled to slits as his grin deepened. “The illusion is nearly perfect. Even beyond a glance, everyone sees the crone. I received only one clue. One part that did not quite fit the whole. But, I’m certain there are more pressing questions in your mind. Please, do ask. Although I was owed a great favor, I fear what I must ask of you buys a debt of equal size.”
She considered him a moment. “We’re being watched, you know.”
“I should think so.”
“Are they all yours?”
He sipped. “Some are. Others may not be. It’s of no consequence.”
Her voice acquired an edge. “You’re very flippant with my life. What if I hadn’t come disguised?”
“You would likely have dropped a note to move the meeting. Or brought your own backup to deal with interlopers. Or the many eyes on this street would have found something more interesting to watch. Yes, I think the last one the most likely. You seem perspicacious, and not apt to take lives for mere blood sport. And, if you had not done any of these things and simply arrived without precaution, our meeting would now be over, and Gregorio would have shown me his hand.” He finished his cup. “None of these things came to pass, and I am very pleased. It seems he took my request seriously, if he sent you.”
“You know who I am?”
He held up a finger. “Ah, I know whom you might be. But it is of little consequence. Time is short, and you certainly have more questions.”
She got to the point. “Why did Gregorio owe you a great favor?”
His smile remained, but he looked down. The memory of a dark night, soaked in rain. Fangs, lightning, and assassin’s blades. He looked back up. “Arrogance is a light that abandons men in their darkest hours.”
She breathed out a sigh. “For an Achrionian proverb, that one actually makes a bit of sense. If you know Gregorio.”
Hef tone confirmed his theory. “You are not one of his usual associates.”
“Which one can say of anyone not desperate for his good graces.”
“And yet, here you are by his command.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Ah,” he raised a finger. “Not his command. So much the better. Then his debt to me is repaid, and I must convince you to take up my burden. This is good.”
“You know so much about me to make that judgment already?”
He sipped his tea. “I have seen you move. You are cautious. I have heard you speak. You are straightforward. I have glimpsed your spirit. You are self-assured. In our business, these are admirable traits.”
“Our business is that of lies and deceit.”
“Ah,” he raised a finger again. “We trade in truth. The lies and deceit are but trappings.”
“For some they’re a way of life.”
He grinned again. “But not for you.”
She looked down at her tea, cooling on the table.
The Winterhawk saw a sadness there. Now she looks like her disguise. Now I would have been fooled.
She looked back up, the sadness gone. “What is it you’re asking?”
“I seek a truth that eludes me. You are aware of the attack on the Kartoresh Ambassador?”
She nodded. “I know he lived.”
“You are well-informed. Then you know that no guilt has yet been assigned.”
“Everyone blames Hadross. It seems most likely. Their ambassador is a disgusting worm.”
Winterhawk grinned. “In a room full of false smiles, the blind man is never deceived. It makes sense, does it not, that two old enemies would poison each other’s wells? It is comforting. Acceptable in its normalcy. It is like saying a merchant sells his wares, a soldier fights his wars, or a thief has stolen a purse. It is the way of things. The Achrionian mind is very much attuned to the proper way of things.”
“I suppose that’s the nature of a caste-based society.”
“You know of my people’s ways!” His eyes twinkled. “We are not so rigid as is widely said. Some, it’s true, cling to the oldest traditions. But a farmer who has no gift for farming may leave his caste, given time and dedication. I did myself, in truth. But the gods make few mistakes in granting us our roles, for when we step beyond those bounds, there is apprehension. Discord. Chaos. Which is what one feels now regarding Kartoresh and Hadross.”
She leaned forward and spoke quieter. Her voice was hard to hear in the crowded café. “So you believe Hadross is not to blame for the poisoning?”
“Oh, I completely believe that.” He leaned back. “There are attacks planned for all the ambassadors.” The shock on her face made him smile even wider. He saw straight through to the forthright young woman. “You are amazed?”
“I—Well, no, I suppose not entirely, but you’ll talk about that here? In the open?”
He gestured around. “And how can we be overheard? The man behind me is enraptured with his young lady and speaks to aggrandize himself. The man behind you cares only for cheating his business partner. The server is harried. Those children are playing with their puppy. And, if seen, what would an observer find? The Achrionian spymaster is taking tea with an old woman. Or, worst case, a woman in disguise. This is no shock. It is the way of things. It is comforting to those who watch us.”
Her mouth was a grim line. “And I’ll have to elude whomever follows me from here.”
“Of course. But you’re talented and intelligent, and you certainly have a plan.”
She grumbled and finished her cup. “Well. We’re off topic. You have proof of these plans against the ambassadors?”
“No, no definitive proof.”
“And it’s this proof you want me to find?”
“Oh, no, not at all.”
She blinked. “The assassins then? You want them located?”
He chuckled. “No, we’ll find nothing there.”
“Well, proof then of their masters?”
He shook his head. “A voice can be heard by one man alone, but written words have an infinite audience. Only a madman puts ink to an assassin’s contract.”
She was agitated. “More proverbs. Well, what then?”
He sipped his tea and set it down. “There has been news from Qualat Mon delivered to our fair city. Yesterday evening, in fact.”
“The sunken Kartoreshian ships?” She shook her head. “No, no, that got here almost a week ago.”
He raised a finger. “Ah. There is something new. Something taken from the harbor to the Hadross estate and then to their tower, under guard. Something that has their ambassador excited. Something that disturbs the way of things. Something that I do not have time to uncover before tomorrow’s sessions. Something that must be known, perhaps to all. This is the truth that eludes me.”
Now she set down her tea and sat back. “You want me to infiltrate Hadross Tower and find some mysterious thing. We don’t know what it is, or what it might look like. All we know is it’s somewhere in there.” She glanced up the mountain towards the Celestial Cathedral. Hadross held the southeastern spire, rising high like an arrow towards heaven.
“It is likely information. But yes, that is your challenge.”
“That’s suicide.”
He picked up his tea. “It is the Achrionian way to face a daily challenge. This is mine: to convince you of the necessity despite the apparent insanity.”
She stood. “We’re done here.”
“Why does the vampire want you dead?”
She sat. “Did he tell you something?”
The Winterhawk sipped his tea. “A man’s position is best told by his feet, not his tongue.”
The woman thought a moment. “You mean the fact that Gregorio sent me says more than anything he might have said.”
The Winterhawk was delighted. “Given time, you will move mountains! In truth, he told me nothing. My note to him was to send me someone who could undertake the most dangerous possible endeavor with at least a slim chance of success. He sent you.”
“Thanks so much.”
He held up a finger. “Ah, but he did not send an underling, a mere spy, a mindless assassin. No, he sentyou. This tells me his mind. Two dragons cannot share the same mountain. If you succeed, his debt is repaid, and he profits. If you fail, he remains the only dragon in his tower.”
She was angry. “All the more reason to refuse.”
Winterhawk pursed his lips. She hadn’t thought Gregorio a true enemy. Interesting. “I would say it is the reason to succeed.”
“Play his game? Do what he wants?”
“What he wants is for you to die. Don’t.”
She scoffed. “You make it sound so simple.”
He shrugged. “As a concept it is.”
“In this case, the practical application is just slightly more complicated.”
He spread his hands. “And yet, if it were truly impossible, I sense you would not still be sitting across from me. Only a fool gives no ground before foolish odds. You are no fool.”
She grumbled a moment. “Why not send your own people? Why ask Gregorio?”
Winterhawk sighed and raised a weary finger. “Ah. You detect the weakness of our position. Good, very good. You know Achrionian military doctrine? No? We follow the tenets of our late Scion Queen Shael Han as handed down from Achrion’s founding days. Flexibility. Adaptability. These are key. For a sapling that bends before the gale still stands where a mighty oak may fall. Alas, it leaves little room for this kind of specialized work.”
She stared at him. “You have no spies?”
He poured more tea and chuckled. “Of course we have spies! Knowledge is the key to understanding the world, and our place in it. There is nothing more important to my people than knowing our place. If not for careful and steady application of intelligence and diplomatic endeavors, Felskar would have invaded us long ago, and Hadross would have drowned Kartoresh beneath the sea. Or at least tried.
“But this mission is more in the nature of espionage than true spycraft. There may be two dozen in all our military that could accomplish what I’ve asked. Alas, they are not here. And, while I could discover this truth in its own time in the usual ways, the methods available with the tools at hand do not count speed as an attribute. Gregorio was a gamble I chose to make. I daresay it has paid well.”
She watched him, hands folded in her lap.
She wavers, he thought. Perhaps I would too, in her place. “Please, have more tea,” he said. “You are not without means in this venture. I do not believe in forlorn hopes.”
She thought a moment, then accepted a new cup. “That doesn’t sound very ‘adaptable’ to me.”
He grinned. “Adaptability in this instance allows me to seek outside assistance. In warfare, the key to victory is adaptation. Attack an enemy’s weakness. Redirect their strength. Do not clash head-on in mighty charges as Felskar prefers.” He sipped his tea and sat back. “I was not always a spymaster, you know. Indeed, I was a wandering warrior for a time, then found my way into the Dragon Legion. This was in the days when Achrion fell behind the other nations in the technology of warfare. When we learned our lesson about clinging too tightly to the old ways. When we thought as the other nations do, and never would have sought assistance beyond our own ranks.”
She smirked. “And I’d always heard the Achrion legions were infallible.”
He laughed. “Celestials above, no. No one ever is. To admit no weakness is a failing of youth, and, in those days, I was extremely young for my age, if that makes sense. No, back then, when we faced Felskar, still frothing over their ‘glorious revolution’, our footmen didn’t even have basic metal armor, let alone the powered armor of today. Steam was very dangerous, and our dragon cavalry was unpredictable. And there were no Children.”
She paused. “Children?”
“Yes.” He raised a finger, “Ah, but you may not have heard of them. You know how Hadrossians are transformed by their Deep gods, and Kartoresh dons masks imbued with elemental power?”
She nodded.
“The Children are much the same: skin like stone, strength of mountains, the grace of willows. Gifts they are, from the War Goddess herself. But for us, the most devout receive this gift, not chosen at random nor forced upon them as a mask.” He stroked his beard. “No, given equal force, the most skilled wins. And while the Children are formidable, and our legions are mechanized, adaptability is our greatest strength. There are no favorite tactics. No preferred stratagems. And looking beyond one’s own camp for aid, especially in a vital matter of intelligence such as this, must seem baffling to them.” He chuckled and grinned. “Very baffling indeed.”
She thought a long minute, and returned to the original subject. “How do you know whatever Hadross discovered has potential to upset these talks? Maybe the ambassador simply got good news from home.”
He held up a finger. “Ah. Good news is shared, bad news is spread, but only secrets remain caged. Besides, why all the security then?”
“What if Gregorio uses the information to his advantage?”
Again to the vampire. He must vex her extremely. “What if the sun rises in the east? Of course he will do this. But I would rather this knowledge be known to more than just Hadross. The drums beat for war, and Hadross marches in-step. I can hardly believe the threat of expulsion from the Free Cities has their ambassador so joyful. No. Some news has arrived. Some proof of something nefarious. I would see it used well, and in a time and place of our choosing, and not one of the Hadross Ambassador’s.”
She wavered. He could see it in her hesitation. The Winterhawk didn’t smile, blink, or twitch a whisker, such was the balance. She asked one final question. “And what will you use this information for?”
He stroked his beard and thought a moment. “You seek to know my heart.” He thought back over the years, and smiled. Regrets. “I’ve told you a little. In my youth I fought myself, unaware as I was of the world and my place in it. In my prime I fought my enemies, believing myself a righteous judge of good and evil. And now, in my twilight….” He sighed. “Well, I am tired. There is always one more battle. There is always one more trial. This is the way of things. The time approaches when I must lay aside my dalko and pass along my burdens. If I can see this one task finished, that of keeping the peace during these talks, I can rest.”
“War might still come.” She spoke guardedly.
“Alas, history, once learned, is often forgotten. But the signs are right for peace. An extended peace.” He finished his tea. “If the ambassadors can be brought to a mere temporary accord, balance will prevail. Tension will drain from the world, and even the Scion Brothers will hesitate to beat the drums in pursuit of their father’s ancient throne. That’s at the heart of it, you know. Hadross and Nasier act as young children fighting over toys.” He shook his head and sighed heavily. “And though they are many centuries my elder, I feel as a parent watching froward younglings. Perhaps wisdom is not a function of age but rather proximity to death. If that is the case, then both may have many centuries left!” He chuckled. “Celestials, forgive me. I speak with the privilege of age. It is not my place to dictate to kings. You have asked after my heart, my wishes in this matter. There you have it.” He sought to pour another cup, but the jug was empty. He frowned and set it down. He simply waited.
She closed her eyes a moment. When she opened them, her expression told him more than her words: “Okay. Tell me more.”
He pulled a bound packet of letters and documents from his silken robe and handed it across. “Here are maps, dossiers, and schedules. Do you require anything from me? Equipment? Backup?”
“What kind of backup?”
“No one who might accompany you, of course, but a distraction could be arranged at some particular time or to a signal.”
She thought a moment. “Can they loiter unseen outside the tower? Better than the three you have watching me now?”
He grinned. “And who are they?”
She tilted her head towards each as she spoke. “The man in the second story window up and to my right. The white-haired young girl at the table by the window. And the tiny dragon curled in that red-leafed shrub over there.”
He laughed. “You should only have seen the dragon and the girl. And the man, if spotted, should have appeared as my observer, not yours.”
“Your man watches me more than you, and hasn’t touched his wine.”
He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “And lo I was saying I believed my work nearly done.”
“I gathered the girl was intended to be obvious. She may have done her job a little too well with the armor and all.”
“She is my student, though her training is nearly complete. She is no spy.”
The woman snorted. “A bodyguard? That little girl?”
He grinned. “She would chafe to hear you say it. I fear patience and youth are not close friends. But do not let her height deceive you. She is a woman grown. And I had no idea whom Gregorio would send. I do have enemies, after all. And me without my armor.”
“Or a weapon.”
He raised a finger. “Ah, but I have my walking stick. I am a tempting target this way. The spymaster beyond Achrion Tower’s walls wearing naught but his robe accompanied by a girl and a yearling dragon.”
“You make yourself a target?”
He shrugged. “It is best to dig a well before thirst sets in.”
“How useful might the dragon be?”
“His name is Rau. He is not stealthy, if you are asking that. He is very intelligent. All the fulung are. When fully grown, he will be ridden into battle, quite possibly by my student.” He clicked his tongue and held his hand low to the ground. The scarlet dragon slunk out of the tree and scurried over, much to the astonishment of patrons and the delight of the nearby children.
WInterhawk smiled as the Rau curled protectively across his shoulders. The tiny dragon’s glittering red eyes stayed locked on Iris. He patted the dragon and clucked soothingly. “I think, however, he may be too small for what you’re wanting.”
“Possibly. I need to look over these documents, but my suspicion is that ingress and egress are the most probable points of failure.”
“I can arrange for a distraction. My student would enjoy the exercise.”
She took a deep breath. “Very well. I have a lot to study and prepare for. I’ll expect the distraction towards dusk.”
“And I shall wait in the Cathedral courtyard, beneath the oak by the pond.”
She stood and leaned on her cane. “I will be very late, if I come at all.”
“I will bring plenty of tea.”
She turned away, paused, and turned back. “It was the cane. That’s how you knew I wasn’t old. I should have leaned on it more.”
He grinned, delighted again. “As I say, miss: you will move mountains in your time.”
“You can call me Irene.”
END
